


A place to look into someone’s eyes for the first time in a while.

by LittleSweetCheeks



Series: The Hearth Series [7]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Late Night Revelations, Past Relationship(s), Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSweetCheeks/pseuds/LittleSweetCheeks
Summary: “I… I didn’t know how to tell you.”





	A place to look into someone’s eyes for the first time in a while.

** A place to look into someone’s eyes for the first time in a while. **

He hadn’t laid eyes on her in over three years. He wasn’t prepared to have Emily Prentiss standing in his kitchen at two in the morning on some random Thursday in the middle of a serious thunderstorm.

“Aaron.” She spoke softly. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Why now?” He itched to pour a scotch, it had become habit when he was home, to have a glass in his hand. He could function and so far, he didn’t think Jack was aware there could be a problem, but even in the dim glow of the stove light, he could see his hands trembling. He’d have to make a decision soon.

She sighed softly. “Because I got a call.”

“A call?”

Emily looked annoyed now, or maybe just slightly angry with him. “You all but live with the top behavioral profilers in the world, Aaron. Yes, I got a call.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter?”

Yes. “No.”

The angry-ish look melted away. “Where do you keep it?”

“I’m fine.” He answered too quickly.

“You’re trembling, sweaty, you keep shifting around, you’re squinting so I’m guessing you’re getting a headache. And that’s just what I can see.” She took a step toward him. “By the looks of you I’d guess nauseous as well, maybe dizzy? So, I’ll ask again. Where do you keep it?”

He told himself the wave that rolled his stomach was only because of her sudden reappearance in his life and her words. “Above the fridge.”

“Of course.” She fished out the scotch and poured a bit. “I’m not giving you much, but for now, we’ll do what works.”

He swallowed it like a dying man in the desert.

A crack of lightning made her frown at the window. “I don’t suppose I could inconvenience you for a spare room for the night? We can talk in the morning?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s at the top of the stairs on the right.” He placed the glass carefully on the counter. “I thought I had it under control. I’ll do better though, I swear. It’s not an option not to. Not now.” He followed, staggered, her back to the living room where she scooped up her two-year-old son, wrapped, sleeping in a blanket. “He looks just like Jack.”

 


End file.
